and joe
was fishing
(themes for the
future)
i was walking
europa
short small piece
murky rock and
foamy spit
i was affection
memory green
rocky terrain and
wallowing sea
mutated
retardation long stroll
over the speckled
karst
turned ankle
crusty knee
eating salt
fine, i thought,
i'm doing fine
and pans banging
empty squid
i was bleeding
blood
into mouthpools
of siphonic
mummies relief in
faults
of glacial scum
cold cleanness of
slit
precarious
shallows
they all formed
around as
aural cause
and people caught
in social
hysteria
bearing compassion
embezzled diaries
cold and warm
shade and spot
joe
licked finger and touched the pulp
the iron taste and
mercury
paint
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